


Connections

by Mybeautifulcostar



Category: Carmilla (Web Series) RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mybeautifulcostar/pseuds/Mybeautifulcostar
Summary: A short update, necessary to get to the good stuff ;)





	1. Paris

It was a thing we never talked about, an unspoken agreement between us to never bring this into focus or the harsh light of reality. If we could pretend it wasn't real then it couldn’t affect us, or endanger our friendship. We might have been fooling ourselves, but for a time it was good. More than good, it was intoxicating.

Paris was exciting, I have so longed to visit, to walk the streets and allow the city to pervade my senses. She was wonderful in allowing me to indulge my fancy as I excitedly pointed out to her all the things that caught my eye.

She laughed as I stared at a painting in the Louvre, our hats matched and she insisted on taking a photo. I indulged and laughed with her. She caught me in a moment, on the stairs, bathed in light and shadow. I love how she sees me sometimes and I'm sure her next picture held that in its capture.

Tired was an understatement for what I was feeling. I do not do well with jet lag, and this trip… my routine had not gone to plan and I was feeling it's full effect, dragging me into exhaustion and making everything slower, harder and somewhat more delirious. I felt that she was concerned, but there was too much to do to spend much time together during the event to really be sure. 

The first night she just held me… a first for us on these sojourns. She had followed me to my room, as she often did as soon as we were alone and wrapped into the surrealness that seemed blossom once we were away from Toronto and our real lives. I was surprised she stayed once my inability to join her in lust was clear. It was so nice, but I was almost physically ill from exhaustion and fell asleep in her arms, her heartbeat thrumming through my face. It was new and I liked it, her solid softness, her body a work of dedication, and her tenderness as her thumb stroked my cheek slowly. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but the thought was distant as I gave into the pull of sleep. 

I woke up alone, still dressed but she had tucked me into a blanket somehow. I ignored the warmth in my chest at that realization, and put myself to bed properly, knowing that I was wishing she were still with me. I was having the usual battle between head and heart over her, this time set off by a gesture I had not expected from her. These weekends were magical, intoxicating, full of pleasure and equally torturous. I tried not to put too much focus on the moments, but only in my secret space at the back of the messy closet that is my heart, did I acknowledge that it was slowly killing me to let her go each time, to return to the boundaries of friendship.

The first day was an expected cacophony, one I had come to enjoy, although my energy had not returned and my guards were not quite as present as I would have liked. I know something I said had betrayed me in the panel, exposed things I want to keep out of the public eye. I saw it in the way Annie looked at me during the break. I couldn't recall what it could have been, through the fog of jet lag. The anxiety of exposure was almost too much and I looked for reassurance. Elise wasn't paying attention to me, caught up in a conversation with Kaitlyn and Elliot.

I joined them and felt better as the conversation did not sink into awkward. She slid her hand into mine smoothly and squeezed it where no-one could see. She was so good at that, I still felt a thrill and flutters at the contact, even after all this time. As quickly as her touch was there, it was gone and she was laughing at something Kaitlyn was saying. 

I don't know why we were still keeping this secret from our friends. Maybe it was habit, maybe it helped keep things simple, but we had never told them about us, and in anyone's company we maintained the facade of platonic friendship. They had asked us in the beginning, when everything was new and we were both rocked by the intensity of the connection we so clearly had. But back then we were strangers, becoming friends and what we told them in response was true. We were not together, and every time it had come up, we laughed as if the idea were absurd. 

They had stopped asking quickly, not wanting to intrude, so truly Canadian of us all. It had helped in the end I suppose. We needed the ability to live in denial in the beginning to find our way through, and other people knowing would have made that hard. Maybe that's why we maintained the facade… not for others, but just for ourselves to enable the denial we seemed to prefer. It was easier to allow this only to exist in a bubble rather than the reality of our lives. Easier to avoid the things that come with relationships and the messy possibilities of losing it all.

Whatever it was, we had developed our own codes and signals. Strange that our bodies could have an entirely different relationship to one another, than our minds did. The cognitive dissonance of it is too complex and I don't spend much time allowing those thoughts into conscious focus. I'm sure my therapist would have plenty to say about it, but I haven't even told her.

The second panel was much like the first, but in reflex to my earlier panic, I just didn't look at her unless she was talking to me. It helped my anxiety at least and kept my eyes off her mouth. I was tingling here and there, anticipation or anxiety, I could never really tell, they walked hand in hand so often for me.

Somehow I made it through the day, bone crushing weariness chasing me down like a hound of hell. I was tempted to skip dinner, but I really did want the food. An opportunity to eat genuinely French food in France was not one I would miss. We sat together and she stroked my thigh under the table without moving a muscle above it. The thrill from that woke me up, in a number of ways. The hot flush probably reached my face, but the lighting was dim. I caught her wink, she had noticed.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder what this is to her. I know what it means to me and it's easy to assume that it's the same for her, but now and then I have to acknowledge that I don't really know. The change in her over the past couple of years had been gradual at first. Different wardrobe choices, new friends and then the hair. I saw a transformation and her embracing who lived behind the often stereotyped face she has. It was beautiful, and my heart filled for her when I saw the carefree laugh and the soft smiles as moments of acceptance came to her.

The first event we'd shared after she cut her hair, I stood beside her as she nervously wrung her hands worrying about how the audience would react to her new look in person. I wanted to kiss her and tell her she was beautiful and amazing, but I made a joke and squeezed her hand. I told her the rest later in her hotel room as I licked the sweetly salty moisture at her core like a dying soul in the desert at an oasis. I don't really know if she heard me, the scratches on the back of my shoulder where she was gripping me tightly were there for a few days after. "Oh shit, Natasha… I'm so sorry" she had exclaimed when she saw them the following night, tracing them with a fingertip and lustful eyes. I could see her in the mirror on the other side of the room, and I think she kind of liked it when she marked me, but whether my words of adoration landed with her was never quite clear.

After dinner in Paris that night it was I who followed her. We had returned to the hotel as a group, laughter surrounding us but weariness evident. Where once we may have indulged in room parties, tonight we were like a group of adults, seeking bed over company and rest over sensory celebration. Or so we joked. In truth my chest warmed with each memory of her gentle touch the night before and I wanted her alone. She gave nothing away, until she reached back for my hand and entwined our fingers once we were just two in the corridor, heading to her room. That touch was enough to ignite anticipation and I felt warmth spread through my body.

Once safely inside her room, pretense dropped from her like a discarded robe as she turned and stared at my mouth heat darkening her honey brown eyes. She pushed me against the door with a thud once it had closed behind me. Her mouth was hungry and demanding and left my knees weak and my senses alight with electric desire as I met her tongue with my own. Where she had been gentle last night, tonight her fingers were strong and impatient. She bunched the material of my dress, shoving until she found the skin at the top of my thighs, her mouth never leaving mine, but instead shortening our breath as her lips and tongue danced with mine. 

I liked it when she dominated me. Overall we tend to take things in turns, but she clearly wanted to lead this time and I wasn't about to argue. It had been a few months and It was her turn, and regardless I felt like letting her. I couldn't help my mouth going dry, anticipating what she might ask of me. She was beautifully creative and dark enough to blow my mind unexpectedly… still after all this time.

Her knee found its way between my thighs, she'd effectively bunched my dress around my waist, revealing my lack of underwear. I was guilty of anticipating our dalliance tonight when I dressed, and the underwear line was a downer in a dress like this. She grinned a feral grin as she discovered this and nodded her approval as she pulled me onto her leg, her jeans meeting me intimately. I'm sure she could feel the dampness, I could certainly feel the strong muscles shift as she encouraged me to ride her like that. I obliged and couldn't hold in the gasp and moan as the texture created the right kind of friction against my clit.

"Fuucckkkk," it was quiet and sounded like she hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it had an interesting effect on me and I'm sure she felt the additional rush of warmth against her leg. Her eyes were fixed on my hips as they rolled against her. Elise's sex voice always did something to me. My whimpering was at times loud, and in sync again we both looked toward the bed in a moment mid thrust.

She released me and I missed the contact immediately, but she threaded her hand through mine sweetly, leading me, letting my dress fall to provide some modesty I no longer cared for. She lead me to the bed, and I played the role of submissive, letting her guide me. We had struggled with these roles, both stubborn and determined when wanting, but had found our way to navigate our intimate power struggles. We had learned to take turns, and tonight it was her turn. Flashes of memory from our last encounter brought another rush of warmth and I know my eyes were dark and wanting as I looked for hers. 

She turned me around, the back of my knees making contact with the edge of the mattress and she stepped completely into my personal space, hands on either side of my face, pulling my mouth to hers. It took me by surprise, we didn't always kiss during these dalliances, but she was exploring my mouth hungrily as if she'd never been there before. We had kissed so many times, both professionally and personally that I did not anticipate feeling something new, but her intensity grabbed my senses and I did my best to keep up with her. She sucked my bottom lip, deeply and bruising and a sound came out of me that I didn't consciously register. She knew I liked a certain amount of assertiveness, not force but strength and this kiss was hitting the perfect note for me. I let her feel my teeth, gently biting her bottom lip and felt her body meld to mine in response. I knew she liked it when I did that.

My reward was both of her hands sliding down my body and once again pulling my dress up into bunches in her fists, only this time she didn't pause and pulled the garment up and over my head, leaving me bare in front of her, with only a bra. She liked to enjoy the show of these things and I held my arms up for her as she trailed fingers down to pinch and tease one of my nipples through lace fabric, and then the other. She licked her lips unconsciously as she stared at the results of her work and I couldn't be sure which I liked better, the sight of her or the sensations she was creating. The rush and delicious ache were the gifts I could rely on her to provide in these moments.

She kissed me again after she had had her fun eliciting moans from me with her talented fingers, and I didn't register her dispatching my bra until she pulled back and sucked one nipple into her mouth. The only thing I enjoyed more than her fingers teasing me there, was her tongue. I let my head fall back and I could hear myself panting as she made colours dance behind my eyes. I wanted her to just fuck me to release, while also not wanting her to stop what she was doing. It was a divine conflict and I enjoyed every moment. While pleasuring one of my nipples with her mouth, she made sure the other was not left out with her fingers and the pressure was building in me. If she touched me in the right place, I'm sure I would just come apart all over her, but I didn't want it to be over so quickly and held back from letting go, for now.

"Lay down," she said after a moment of sweet torment at my breasts. Her voice was thick and rich with whatever she had in mind and it thrilled me again. Her commanding tone was one reserved for our time together like this, or at least I presumed so. I had certainly not heard anything like it from her in any other context. It was a tone that I wanted to be just for me.

I did as instructed and lay back, hands stretched above my head, offering myself to her. She looked at me, thirsty and full of intent as she put on a show for me, revealing her body piece by glorious piece as she shed her own clothes. When she was naked, she crawled up over my body, making sure I could feel her breasts against the flesh of my legs, then where I was aching, over my stomach and finally meeting my own as she captured my mouth again owning me in her kiss. 

It didn't take long after that, she knew my body well and I knew hers and we had this dance perfected. She lapped at the softest parts of me once she had let me fall over the edge, a gentle intrusion that elicited aftershocks, and brought me down from the high. When she'd had her fill she moved up to lay in my arms, and I held her to me, her hair tickling my chin and her breath washing over the bare skin of my chest. 

I could taste her in my mouth, and holding her like this… I felt our connection wrapping around and pulling us together. I couldn't help the tender kiss on her forehead as my mind provided me with domestic images of a life we could have together, although it put me on edge. I didn't want to burst this bubble of satisfied warmth with her, I just wanted to stay in it, with her for as long as I could. I endured the brief tension I was holding, waiting to see if there would be a reaction to my moment of indulgence, she just sighed and started tracing a pattern on my abdomen. Down and over my stomach, then back up just under my breast and then down again. I wanted to know what she was thinking.

"You're so beautiful," she said in a whisper, I almost didn’t hear. She kissed my shoulder where her face was resting, and my heartbeat doubled in my chest. It seemed insane, given we'd just made each other come, that her words would affect me so, but they did. I pulled her tighter to me and she snuggled in closer. This was not how this usually went and I was bewildered and excited by it, while trying not to get my thoughts and feelings out of control. My anxious brain never quite gave me a break with these things.

Typically once done, she would lie for a moment with me, putting space between us after a few moments, and then she would get up, talking about something light and meaningless while she dressed. I would usually be the one to watch her leave. Sometimes she would kiss my cheek and I would tell her to sleep well, my ability to appear nonchalant serving me well as I resisted the urges to ask her to stay. I had been resisting that for a while, the desire to live out the fantasy of affection sometimes strong.

In the beginning I had been relieved to stretch out in my own space after we had finished, physically satisfied and happy to return to my own thoughts and space. I considered it a stroke of luck to find someone who could be with me in this strange situation and not make it complicated. 

I never imagined it would be my feelings that would grow for her, that I would become increasingly conscious of the way we fit each other and of the pull between us. That chemistry that the world could see… it was strong and easy to give in to.


	2. Screen Awards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short update, necessary to get to the good stuff ;)

On the flight back she slept, as she had on the way to Paris. I let stray tears fall in the privacy of my seat while she was safely unaware. I had bathed in her light and our connection until then, and the sadness was like a punch to my chest. Again I wondered when I had passed the point of no return in my longing for her. It wasn't a moment, I feel like it was an evolution of existing.

Real life returned and we didn't see each other for weeks. The sting of it dulled, as it seems to when the mundane reality of audition, hope, disappointment and anxiety take hold. She messaged me, and I messaged her. The messages saying nothing of consequence, living safely within the boundaries of friendship. Her photos are always amazing and I appreciate that she thinks to share them with me. In turn I send her things I think she will find funny or interesting. But we didn't see each other, the nights in Paris not enough to spark that in Toronto.

The Canadian Screen Awards came and I couldn't help but be excited. I had found a suit I was dying to wear, and had a look in mind. Something different, something... spectacular, or so I hoped. I wanted to make an impression, on the industry, on the fans and on her. I wanted to get her attention, and I knew she liked a certain look, and it was my turn. I remembered the years prior. Our giddy congratulatory haze ending in heated kisses in the back of an Uber and hands roaming. It left me breathless and wanting and I had been so close to breaking the rules then, to inviting her in to my home, into my bed. I suspected this year would not be different, why would it? But I wanted to leave her wanting, remind her of what I'm capable of. It seemed like a good thought in planning.

I had work before rehearsals, selling pies at the markets and I enjoyed the simplicity and energy of it. I was dirty with no time to change for the rehearsals, much to my embarrassment. My heart sped up when I saw her, as it always does after separation. She looked the same, relaxed smile, her t-shirt and jeans making her look like a young dude. I hid my blush as I hugged her hello and she squeezed me tightly, the way she does when we've been apart. I like to think she misses me as much as I miss her. She rested her chin on my shoulder a moment longer as her grip relaxed but she didn't let go, we just stood there and my feelings swelled in my chest bringing moisture to my eyes. I ignored it and gave her a smile when she eventually let me go and stood back.

My emotions were a tangle and too close to the surface and I found it frustrating as we stepped through our roles. She snapped a picture of me as we waited in the wings and I could see the distress in my face when she showed me mixed into the artful lighting. I hoped that perhaps only I could see it. I was tired and the feeling of her in my arms was lingering in my thoughts, both warming and tormenting me. I was finding my desire for her growing with time, not fading.

"Natasha…" she had been saying something to me and I was embarrassed that I was too zoned out to hear her.

"Earth to Natasha," she laughed, a crinkle between her eyes the only give away that there was some concern, her smile was amused.

"Sorry," I pulled myself from my thoughts and focused on her. Her eyes were soft and looking me over.

"I was asking if you want to go eat? I'm starving."

That was the night she told me. As we stood waiting for burritos, she said three little words that made my heart race.

"I've met someone."

She followed that up with something like "I think you'll like her," but the sound of my heart cracking in my chest drowned her out. I did my best acting work the following night. I know I looked the part, but as soon as I could I fled. Her words still ringing in my ears.

"I've met someone."

**Author's Note:**

> More to come


End file.
